Pendragon

'I miss him so much, and Cleopatra, too. All the cats, Thomas, they would run and jump, meow their heads off, or sit there and tell you, without words, that they weren't going to move a paw, no matter what you did.'

'I think,' he said slowly, watching her dance around the room clutching the wooden Mr. Cork to her chest, 'that just maybe we should introduce cat racing to Pendragon. Did your father carve this exquisite piece?'

'No, Jeremy.'

'I see,' he said and wanted to howl. Couldn't the mangy bastard just leave her alone?

After Thomas left her to go downstairs to see Paddy, Meggie was humming as she dusted off Mr. Cork's fine statue. Suddenly she stopped cold. At least an hour had passed since she'd thought about the person who'd slammed whatever it had been down on her head. Just the thought of it now brought a flash of pain. Even when Thomas had mentioned it, she'd been too excited about her present and hadn't heeded it.

She winced, walked slowly to the window, and looked at the breezy spring day. It was cloudy, but at least right now it wasn't raining.

She picked up her father's letter and read it through again. 'My dearest girl, Jeremy sent this wedding present to me since he didn't know where you would be. I am enclosing his letter.'

Meggie didn't want to read Jeremy's letter, she really didn't, but nonetheless, now that Thomas was gone and she was alone, she slowly unfolded the single sheet of paper, pressed it out with her palm, and read, 'Dear Almost Cousin Meggie, I wish you and your new husband the very best. Charlotte and I would welcome a visit from you. I hope you enjoy this rendition of Mr. Cork. It took me a while to carve it which is why it was late.' And it was signed just Jeremy. His direction was written on a separate piece of foolscap. Jeremy. Jeremy and Charlotte.

She walked slowly to the fireplace and stood there, staring at the three stacked logs, bits of paper stuffed around them. She shredded the letter and tossed the pieces in amongst the kindling. Then she lit the fire and watched it burn. She heard Alvy moving about behind her, but didn't move.

'Dr. Pritchart is here to see you, my lady.'

She frowned, not realizing at first why he would come to Pendragon. Oh, her head. She turned and smiled at Alvy. 'I will see him shortly in the drawing room. Please let Barnacle know, Alvy.'

Ten minutes later Meggie, Thomas beside her, greeted Dr. Pritchart, who was sipping at a cup of Cook's tea and scratching his ear.

'There is a rash on your ear, Dr. Pritchart,' Meggie said, walking to him. 'Is it all right?'

He paused and looked at her, for a very long time, didn't say anything, just looked. 'You'll do,' he said, snapped the cup into its saucer, and gave her a brief bow. He said to Thomas, 'If she suffers a relapse, you will call me. Good day to you both. The rash comes twice a year, one of those times is right now, in April. It's nothing at all.' And he was gone.

'Well,' Meggie said. 'I wonder how much his bill will be for that visit.'

'He thinks you're fine. That's all I wanted to know. He's had that rash twice a year since for as long as I can remember.' He crossed to her, pulled her against him, and kissed her.

Meggie was nothing loathe and kissed him back. She said into his mouth, 'This is so much nicer than those dreadful things you did to me on our wedding night.' She pulled back and looked up into his face. 'I know, you don't want to talk about it.'

'No,' he said against her ear, then stroked his thumb along her jawline. His hands were on her hips when there was a clearing voice from the doorway. Thomas slowly raised his head. 'Damnation.'

He turned to see his mother standing there, and she didn't look at all happy.

'Yes, Mother?'

'Lord Kipper has decided to take Libby for a ride in his curricle. He told her he had a very lovely spot to show her and that she would truly appreciate it, especially since it wasn't raining. He told her how much he admired her. I told her he was lying, that he didn't like women with as much flesh as she has. He was just going to drive her to this nice spot and bed her on a blanket just because there was no one else about for the moment, no one with less flesh than she has. She was merely a temporary convenience, I told her, surely she realized that. She called me horrid nasty names and slammed out of the castle. It was unforgivable. I'm thinking of having her live elsewhere.'

Thomas stared at his mother, then laughed.

Meggie, fascinated, said, 'What did she call you, ma'am?'

'She had the absolute gall to call me a pernicious old tart. Can you imagine?'

'Well, no, I can't,' Meggie said.

'Imagine calling me a tart. I never slept with any man other than your father and Lord Kipper, and who wouldn't bed him if they had a chance? He was beautiful twenty years ago and he's beautiful today, and ever so talented. I'll wager that little wife of yours would take him to her bed in an instant if he crooked his finger at her.'

'Niles enjoys life too much to try that, Mother.'

'You would shoot him if your wife here were unfaithful to you?'

'In an instant.'

'And what, may I ask, would be her punishment?'

'Since this will never happen, then I really don't have to think of one, do I?'

'I saw her looking at Lord Kipper, Thomas, just like Miss Crittenden looked at that bit of sea bass Cook served for dinner before you arrived.'

Thomas just smiled, but there was something in his eyes, something dark and hidden from her. Meggie frowned.

'I didn't realize Libby knew such a deadly word as pernicious' he said.

Madeleine said, 'I didn't either. Pernicious. I am here to look it up in that dictionary on your desk. I hope I have the spelling right. I ask you, what good is a dictionary if you don't already now how to spell the word? Stand aside.'

Thomas took Meggie's hand and led her from the estate room. They were half a dozen steps beyond the room when they heard his mother squawk.

'Let's hurry,' Thomas said.

'Thank you, Thomas.'

He turned to smile down at her. 'For what? Dragging you out of the room before she found pernicious?'

'For telling your mother that I wouldn't ever betray you.'

'Yes,' he said slowly, turning away from her to look out over the Irish Sea, 'I did say that, didn't I?'

That night a storm blew in, rain slammed hard against the windows, and the black of the night was absolute.

'Oh God, Meggie,' he said against her mouth, felt the world tilt and every muscle in his body scream, and managed to pull out of her just in time. He hung over her, panting, so beyond himself, that for many moments it was very close.

'Thomas? What's wrong?'

'You weren't with me,' he said, low and harsh, and gave her his mouth.

When she arched her back and yelled to the ceiling, he came into her again, hard, deep and deeper still, and harder than he should have, but he just couldn't help himself.

Some time later Thomas was lying on his back, his breathing slow and calm now, his wife's breath warm against his bare chest. Suddenly he felt her jerk, and tightened his arm around her.

'Meggie,' he said against her hair, kissing her. 'You're dreaming. Come, wake up.'

She moaned quietly, pressing closer to him, and her breath was hot against his flesh, wheezing in and out. Something bad was happening. She sucked in a deep breath, shuddered. He started to shake her awake when she moaned, 'Jeremy, no, no. Blessed Hell, no. Jeremy.'

He didn't shake her. He didn't do anything for a very long time, just let her thrash about and moan, deep in her throat.

When finally she was calm again, when she hadn't moaned his name again for at least five minutes, Thomas eased away from his wife, and rolled off the side of the bed. He came up to stand over her. He couldn't see her well because of the storm, the blanket of rain that obscured any outside light, the blackness of the room. But yet again